Playing Catch-Up | Dorianmance Week #5
So I guess it’s gonna be skip-day posts for me. :’) My motivation is so unpredictable ugh.
Set post-Corypheus’s defeat. You know, the big damn party.
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It was impossible to keep by the Inquisitor’s side for the duration of the feast. Every man and woman and child and nug in the whole of Skyhold seemed intent on shaking his hand, or kissing his hand, or lay their hands on him that Dorian felt anxiety building a knot in his chest just watching Maedwyn deal with the mob. The one time he attempted to wade into the crowd and relieve his dearly beloved significant other of the pressure, he got grabbed by a pair of drunken, cheerful dwarves and had to sit through three rounds of their shitty ale before they would even let go of his shirt.
And so, really, it was a miracle how Dorian managed to spot Maedwyn leaving. But he did; caught him slipping right out the side door, his hair – still braided from the battle – coming loose as Maedwyn yanked the tie away. Bed, then, probably.
No. Office. Why would the elf do anything sensible? Dorian shot Vivienne a ‘rescue me’ look and graciously detached himself from the blathering Templar he had been roped into talking with and Vivienne glided like a Fade spirit across the floor, smoothly taking his place.